a chronicle of the eating experiences of two girls from cincinnati's westside

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

eating habits

over at wine me, dine me there was some talk about the clean plate club recently. i am a card carrying member, solely because of the influence of my grandpa bob (different grandpa than previously mentioned). at a tender age, my grandpa bob told my sister and i that before we are allowed into heaven after we die, we have to eat all the food we left on our plates during life. this is the danger of having catholic grandparents raised during the depression. michelle and i debated over the years if the food would appear as we had left it, lukewarm and unappealing, or if it would age as we aged, and we would have to slurp up moldy brown goo before st. peter welcomed us with open arms. my persisting image of purgatory is miss havisham's wedding table; complete with cobwebbed candelabras, dusty lamb shanks, and a decrepit, decaying wedding cake.

after church on sundays we would go out to breakfast. once, at perkins, i begged and begged to be allowed to get pankcakes and promptly ate just 2 bites. my grandfather insisted they be wrapped up. they were kept in my grandparents' freezer FOR YEARS. whenever i visited them, grandpa would ask me if i wanted pancakes. i think they were finally thrown away when he passed on.

5 comments:

Well said. I actually blamed my mom not so many years ago for my continuing battles with the bulge, saying that it was at least partially her fault...you see, she clapped for me when I finished all my food when I was little.

I have to admit that the plan backfired, though, when her only response to my off-handed indictment was, "Great. More stuff." I'm sure the guilt resulted in more over-eating. Surprise, surprise.

My parents grew up during the depression and made us clean our plates before we could leave the table. There were times I sat at the table all night (even sleeping in my chair) because I couldn't eat it all. I felt they were dishing up too much onto my plate.

My brother and I got pretty creative and crafty after awhile and whatever couldn't be pawned off on the dog was squirreled away and hidden inside potted plants, drawers, Dad's shoes...

the recipe for our friendship

we're just two girls born and bred on the westside who grew up loving high school football, church festivals, cheap beer, and, of course, food. we're always looking for something new to taste, even if it's not the most recent addition to the menu at price hill chili.as is the genesis for many great friendships, we met through a mutual friend at a bar, circa 2000, and realized it was unbelievable we hadn't met previously. we knew the same people, had hung out at the same places, probably passed each other a million times. we were (and are) each other's kevin bacon. we both like to eat, drink, and eat some more. and, let's be honest, drink some more, too.questions? we'd love to hear from you at westsidefoodiewannabes@gmail.com.